


Refuge For the Damned

by Perpetualstranger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dissociation, F/M, Night Terrors, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2586155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perpetualstranger/pseuds/Perpetualstranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After blowing all her covers, Natasha flees to the most isolated place where she can hide- Bruce Banner's place. But plans are simpler made than executed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it appears that Bruce moved into Avengers Tower, but I think they'd all go there separate ways for some time. So yeah, I just made up the fact that Bruce moved to the rainforests of Cambodia!
> 
> Sorry for any typos.

The fluorescent lights of the kitchen bathe the room with a harsh brightness. On first thought, one might think the place is quiet. But unadulterated silence simply does not exist. It is impossible. Bruce's mind won't shut off and his heart ticks like a metronome and his breath is sharp in his ears. He stops and listens to the noises he had gotten so used to, the ones he tended to block out. The hum of the refrigerator, the clicking of the rusty ceiling fan- But now, there was a new noise that he hadn't registered in his mind as normal.

The subtle scrape of a spoon against the inside of a porcelain coffee cup.

He closes his eyes and listens to the liquid slosh from the stirring motion and opens them to see who is causing it.

"Ms. Romanoff." His cautious voice breaks the silence and he almost regrets leaving the stupor of peaceful confusion.

"You know my actual surname is Romanova?" The stirring ceases, but she doesn't turn to face him yet. "Three million, twenty four thousand people and counting know that." Now she turns around and Bruce wishes she hadn't. There's a scar that runs down her right brow; the area swollen and tinted purple.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" It was four thirty-five in the morning, according to the microwave's digital reading that was two minutes too slow, and he slurred his words when he was tired and flustered. Natasha Romanoff- or Romanova as she had just informed him, has managed to make him feel both simultaneously.

"That's the number of people who have read my history on the Web." She comments nonchalantly, taking it all in stride, just as he would expect her to. She acted like a spy even off duty- acting two steps ahead when she was actually three behind. But no one had to know that but her. She wouldn't let anyone either. It was one of the few things that peeved Bruce about Natasha when they first met.

"Well, there's no internet in the rainforests of Cambodia-" Bruce's hands, which were clasped together, break apart to gesture to the nearby window at the thick leaves and underbrush outside. "But you've probably figured that out yourself when you broke into my place." He gives a quaint, knowing smile that makes Natasha's teeth grind together. His ability to anticipate her actions was one of the few things that peeved Natasha about Bruce when they first met.

"I'm not here to invade your privacy on behalf of SHIELD." She tries to repress the defensive growl in her voice as she takes a step forward.

" _Oh_ ," He takes a step forward to match her, feeling a little bit of unusual confidence. "And why should I believe-"

"There is no more SHIELD. That's why."

Bruce still doesn't have all the information to piece together in his groggy mind what possibly could've happened to cause SHIELD to fall- so he doesn't bother with it at the moment.

"So I'm going to skip the question as to how you found me and move onto why did you find me?" He takes another step forward and Natasha doesn't match him, instead standing glued to the dingy floor with her pupils dilating on their own accord. "Are there no more SHIELD safe houses?"

"More like, there's no place safe for me, period." Natasha replies simply, but hints of frustration line her words. Frustration he didn't know was geared to herself and not him.

"So you come to the middle of an unpopulated forest in a foreign country, potentially trapped with a monster who-" He stops himself from saying anymore, taking in a quick breath and tearing his eyes away. He retreats to his breathing exercises instead of succumbing to his mind conjuring images of the Hulk destroying her body past the point of recognition. Something- more of someone stirs inside him and his controlled breath catches in his throat.

"I'd rather whatever death the Hulk gives me than what others have to offer." Natasha eases out with a casual arch of her eyebrow and it makes Bruce ache. Her words are hollow him out. The utter flippancy in regards to the end of her life is what gets to him. Natasha doesn't brush with death, she rams shoulders with it. There is nothing delicate or careful about the way she speaks of it.

"So you're basically signing your own death warrant?" He huffs before slumping into a wooden chair that creaks from the action. When Bruce is met with silence, other than the hum of the refrigerator or the clicking fan and now the echoing caw of a distant bird- he persists. "Is this honestly what you're trying to tell me, Natasha?"

"I by no means welcome death," With the dry and calloused palms of his hands effectively covering his face, Bruce only hears the sound of Natasha's bare feet padding against the tile. He represses the tug of his lips that wish smirk at the thought that she took her shoes off at the door. "But that doesn't mean I'm not prepared for it to be an option. And I don't have many options."

 

 

 

"But I honestly don't know if it's in your best interest to stay here- my last incident was, uh-"

"Three months ago." Now it is Natasha's turn to give that quaint, knowing smile. "I know. But I don't have the luxury of staying in one place too long and I am willing to take that risk." The smile slowly turns cold like the cup of coffee she was in the process making before it all started- her full lips pouting and the corners twitching before curling downwards.

Bruce looks at her for a long moment, determining whether he should go through with this- before realizing it wasn't even his decision.

"Okay," He purses his lips and throws his hands up in defeat, leaning back into the chair so his spine molds uncomfortably with it. He chuckles dryly and shakes his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm saying this- but I really can't do anything but let you stay. The nearest town isn't for another four or so miles on foot." His lips finally give into that reluctant smirk, but it is misshaped from the muscles not used to being used for that purpose. He watches her with the slightest caution as she stands and crosses over to his side, bending down so she's at his level.

"You could just kick me out and save yourself the trouble." Her voice was low and smoky, filling his ears with a solution and his insides with an unexpected warmth. That unexpected warmth intensifying when she presses a careful kiss to his coarse cheek, her lips daring to drag against the stubble of his jaw for a moment before retreating into the darkness. He sits dumbfounded and relishes the sensation of intimate contact- of any human contact that didn't include destruction- in what felt like such a long time. Then he realizes he wasn't aware of her location anymore.

"Natasha?" Bruce stands so quickly he stumbles out of the chair. It almost clatters to the floor if not for him catching it at the last moment before following her. "Where are you go-"

His question falls short when he observes her in the vaguely dim lighting of the moon as she sheds her jeans off without fanfare before crawling into his bed.

"Now hold on-" Bruce hesitates before sitting on the other end of the bed, as far away from the woman folding the covers over her.  _His covers._ "I think you've crossed over enough boundaries for one night." His eyes narrow as she meets his glare in the darkness.

"I've crossed over enough boundaries, alright." Natasha huffs before shifting on her side. She hisses in pain; forgetting about the swollen wound that brings back a numbing pain when her head presses against the pillow. "How do you think I got here?"

Bruce forgets about how complicated it is to get from America (or wherever she's been hiding at) and into Cambodia. He wonders how long it took for her to smuggle herself in as he shucks his shirt over his head and mess of curls. His spine pops as he contorts his back at an awkward angle to see if Natasha is watching him-

_She is._

But he sees her bathed in something different than the stark kitchen lights; that of the moon. It beams in through the window and falls upon her like a natural spotlight. It smooths over her languid body instead of making it appear sharp and gaunt. Her weary limbs sprawl about, one hand weaving into her messy red locks of hair. The tint of blue washes over her painfully still frame as she waits for him to do something. But Bruce is too busy coming to a simple realization: Natasha doesn't glow, because she's not heavenly. She wears her sins on her sleeve. And that is one thing he truly admires about her.

He takes a deep breath and turns away from her curious eyes as he sheds his pants off and nudges then with his foot to join in the pile of his clothes on the floor. The bed is big enough that they don't have to touch and his heart quiets at the thought. His eyebrows, which he didn't know were scrunching together, loosen and his eyelids flutter shut-

"What're you doing?"

Natasha's warm body is suddenly pressed against his back, arms snaking around his middle in ways that made him uncomfortably relaxed.

"There's some things that I will need from you and you can't ask why." Her words fan against the skin of his neck where her head is buried. He tries not to fidget in her hold when her nose brushes against him. "This is one of them."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Natasha explore the forest and run into some trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Violence- the Hulk makes an appearance, but nothing graphic

* * *

It feels odd to Bruce having another person in his bed. Being alone made him forget, causing him to scrape at the dim recesses of his memory to remember the sensation. He's astonished by how _alive_ Natasha feels. He feels her soft and even breath, her muted heartbeat- and he feels especially odd because he's almost certain he almost senses her blood circulating and thrumming throughout her body, making it flushed and warm against his own.

One of the many things Bruce remembers about his first encounter with the spy was how painfully quiet she was. Even after he span around and beheld her standing there, the only noise she let out was her convoluted, honeyed words.

As he lays there and watches the last glimpses of that deep blue night give way to dawn, melting into a smoky gray morning, he ponders the ridiculous theory that perhaps he never heard her heart before because he believed she didn't have one.

Bruce shakes his head at that thought; not knowing much about Natasha, but being able to piece together the conclusion that Natasha Romanoff— Romanova, he corrects himself, does indeed have a heart, but merely choses when to use it.

When her fingers clench, bunching the thin fabric of his undershirt, Bruce swipes his glasses off the nightstand with his free hand and clumsily slides them on. He looks down at Natasha's face tightened in concentration— her eyes squeezing tighter and brows scrunching together to create worried creases. Her body subtly trembles- but there is nothing truly subtle about the sensation. He absorbs the augmented tremors that roll through her body into his own. Witnessing her struggle produces his own. Closing his eyes, Bruce recalls a childhood memory of when his whole house would rattle from the force of a night train that ran near his neighborhood, the porcelain plates that hung on the walls falling and shattering.

He jolts suddenly from the piercing sound of precious things breaking and darts his eyes to see Natasha gazing at him calmly. While he was loosing himself to his own mind, Natasha was stirred awake and attempted to compose herself. But Bruce detects the wild look that riddles her equally penetrating and despondent eyes- her nostrils that flair with each sharp breath she takes, how her chest moves unevenly against him no matter how hard she tries to calm herself.

"Are you okay?" She murmurs cautiously, evening out her voice. Her eyes paint over with concern as they take in the way Bruce slowly licks his thin lips and exhales deeply.

" _Yes_." He says after some time, as if deciding whether that be true or not. Natasha's face turns solemnly blank before she moves her head to rest on his chest once more and Bruce realizes that she may not be- no matter how stubborn or reluctant she is about showing it.

"And you-" His arm that is wrapped around her midsection subtly tightens, and for a moment and she feels a fleeting comfort in the unnecessary gesture. "Are you okay?" The question fumbles awkwardly from his lips that tighten in order to stop quivering. He doesn't get a verbal response, but he feels her cheek rub against his chest as she nods 'yes'.

They both have horrors that play behind their eyelids like old time picture shows. Natasha read the cursory information on Bruce's file, and he only heard the references to her ledger from Loki's twisted lips. Their pasts were labyrinths they wished not to get lost in.

Especially not each other's.

 

* * *

 

"I know you still have many questions for me, justifiably so-" Natasha says from where sits at the kitchen table. They move on quickly from that moment for both their sakes. Bruce sets his knife down to listen to her next words. "But I have one for you." The handle of the knife grows uncomfortable in his clammy hands, but he feigns easiness.

"Shoot." He resumes dicing up a mango he plucked from out his bedroom window after they got up; the crisp sound of the knife cutting through the tender fruit a relaxing distraction. "Figuratively, of course." He looks over his shoulder and gives her a wry grin- Remembering their first encounter which ended with him at gun point. 

 

 

"Why'd you let me in?" Natasha's calculating and inquisitive eyes narrow at him in confusion, her head tilting slightly to the side, causing her red locks to fall onto her tense shoulders. Bruce cards the observation that her hair has grown considerably since their last encounter for a later time.

"We fugitives on the run have to stick together, don't we?" He chuckles sardonically at her unpleasant reaction, and more importantly, their unpleasant realities which bring them together once more. Bruce was efficiently blunt, never one for beating around the bush.

"Aren't you going to ask what the reason is for me coming in the first place?" She almost regrets how desperate that sounds of her, but doesn't have time to when Bruce sets his plate on the table and stops in front of her.

"No." The reply is simple, the one word infused with such gentle earnestness. His eyes are hesitant and observing and Natasha ignores the kink in her neck to gaze up at him. "If and when you wish to— you can tell me." He places a heavy hand on her shoulder and she tenses up instinctively in reaction to the unexpected contact. He retracts his hand as touching a hot stovetop. Realizing her boundaries concerning intimacy might have been exceeded already that morning, he understands. Bruce simply presumes it was a miscalculated action on his part.

But Natasha misses the warmth that seeps from his hand and wanted more- wanted it to engulf her. She represses that very human urge and decides to distract herself with plucking a bite size piece of mango from off the plate and popping it into her mouth.

"I think we should take a walk. I didn't get to see much of the forest when I first arrived."

 

* * *

 

Bruce's cabin is nestled into a mountain in the forest. Thick canopies overhead only allow for pillars of sunlight to poke through. Natasha glances up when she hears the leaves chattering as a gust of wind breezes through the trees, causing them to sway back and forth in a languid motion.

"This place is nice- but an odd choice to settle down in." She turns her attentions away from the nature to gauge Bruce's reaction. 

 

 

"Before you and SHIELD intervened," He gives her a poignant look. "I was helping a group of researchers in India who were trying to unlock the potential of gamma radiation on a cellular level-" She fondly observes the way Bruce communicates with his whole body- his hands gesturing awkwardly about as if he doesn't know what to do with them, the muscles in his face tightening to make vivid facial expressions, and eyes that flash with whatever emotion he's warped in.

"—More specifically: the plant cell. They found gamma radiation speeds up metabolic processes, which means enhanced production of things like plants, medicines, spices...." He clicks his tongue and shakes his head in amazement. "And that was just the beginning."

Bruce's so distracted by the positive possibilities of gamma radiation, that he fails to notice a gnarled tree branch and stumbles over it. Natasha quickly reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt, effectively impeding his fall. He stares wide eyed at the woman looming over, still suspending him in her grasp. When she's sure he's not going anywhere, Natasha lets out a breath and brings him back to his feet. She squints at the unusually placed tree branch discarded on the ground, her eyes following a path of branches and debris that led to a clearing up ahead. 

 

 

"What happened here?" Natasha breathes out, solely focused on the unnatural looking destruction before her. She shifts her eyes to Bruce as he squeezes his shut and clears his throat— memories flooding like a surging, merciless wave.

_Whole trees yanked out from their roots and torn in half, wood splintering from the pressure of his grip, animals screeching in fear as the scampered away from the scene— all their cries for help drowned out by the distinct roar of a single beast._

" _Bruce_?" Natasha insists, and judging by the way she crosses her arms in a protective manner over her chest means she already knows the answer to the awful question. 

 

 

"The negative possibilities of gamma radiation is what happened." He replies grimly, a distinct, undeniable darkness washing over him.

"This was the site of your last incident?" She calls over her shoulder as she moves away to observe the area. Bruce doesn't answer- doesn't need to. He watches her frustratedly, fists clenching painfully by his sides. He doesn't want her to see what the Hulk is capable of. He almost catches her wrist when she begins to leave as to stop her, to keep her next to him. He wonders if she left him because his presence was unsettling or she was genuinely curious.

Natasha continues to explore deeper into the forest, her head whipping towards the source of a shrill cry of an animal, and the painfully familiar sound of gun being fired. She sees Bruce still standing alone in the clearing, pacing around in the dirt and twiddling his thumbs. He meets her worried gaze when the shot is fired and shakes his head vigorously in protest. He knows she won't listen as he watches the spy start into a mad dash through the dense forest.

Knowing she's unaware of the area and could easily get lost, Bruce lets out a regretful sigh before sprinting after her. He follows behind Natasha who moves with the swift grace of a gazelle, but she isn't the prey. He barely catches glimpses of her fiery hair– or sounds of twigs snapping under her quick feet as she runs further and further towards the source of the sound.

"Natasha!" Bruce hollers for her, but he's out of breath and can barely speak. His throat is raw and his heart is pounding dangerously in his ears when he feels something rustle inside him. He's desperately swatting leaves and branches from his face as he continues deeper into the chaos. Bruce had done his fair share of running, but always away from people, not towards them.

When he snaps out of that thought, he realizes that he's lost her. He skitters to a stop to catch his breath, his chest heaving with each swallow breath. He feels the dull ache in his thighs and a throbbing sensation in his head that turns him numb and tingling all over. A part of him wonders if he should just turn around and go home, act like he never saw her. But that becomes extremely difficult when he hears shouting up ahead.

"Natash-" Her name falls short from his mouth as he beholds the scene before him.

"Natasha, eh?" The burly man constraining her in his tight grasp lets the name roll off his tongue. Even though his tanned hand covers most of her face, Bruce sees she pissed. "That's what you call yourself now? I like Natalia better– more importantly, so does the boss." When he steps out of the shadows, the group of men recognize what he is.

" _You're th-that thing!_ " Someone cries out, but Bruce is too lost in trying to control himself to distinguish who in the mass of faces before him says it. The man holding Natasha snarls before tossing her to the ground insignificantly. He feels the Hulk clamor inside him once more at that, feeling it pounding at his chest, threatening to break his rib cage– or perhaps that's his heart. His toes curl up in his worn out shoes and he shakes his head sharply as if that could shake off the beast.

" _Bruce_." Natasha says his name in the same manner she did before he attacked and it enrages him further to think he was unraveling to that point once more. One moment of weakness, of distraction, is his undoing– and consequentially everyone else.

Bruce's muscles spasm and his skin feels too tight- constraining. For a long moment, every noise turns numb in his ears and all he sees is vicious shades of green that cloud his sight.

"H-hey! Bruce-" Natasha's useless attempts at reaching to him in mid transformation are suddenly cut off by the swift boot of someone's rifle jabbing her in the back so her face buries into the ground.

"Forget about Romanova- He's gonna rip us apart!" Another one hollers, backing away slowly. " _Or-r eat us!_ " The man stammers on his words as he warily watches the monster mold itself from the remains of the quiet man that once stood before them.

" _Eat you?_ " The rough, rumbling voice of the monster is unsettling, but not as much as the snickering that follows. "Haven't heard that before." He takes a step forward, large feet sinking into the muddy ground, and one of the men scampers off. He's gunned down before making it two yards. The man who roughly handled Natasha smirks with the smoking gun in hand. Hulk smashes him first.

By the time the third man is flung across the forest, his scream becoming fainter the farther he flew, Natasha perches herself in a tree for safety. One of the men are bashed on the ground repeatedly before being thrown in the direction of the three she resides in.

When there's no one to destroy, the Hulk clenches his fists and roars at the sky, at whatever is left. The sound causes a deep rumbling, as if the core of the Earth itself trembles from the force. Frightened birds flee the area and he thinks about jumping into the air and trying to catch one with his hands, but he's grown tired. Natasha can see by the way the monster pouts and nudges a dead body with his toe that he feels just as keenly as a person. He lets out a quiet cry- almost a whimper, before collapsing on the forest floor.

It takes an hour for Bruce to crawl his way back into his own mind.

 

* * *

 

Despite Natasha's better judgment, she agrees not to drive the stolen jeep the men parked up ahead. The ride is completely silent except for the snapping of branches and jolting sounds of the jeep when it runs over a bump. Bruce is driving with shaky hands that still don't quite feel like his own and all Natasha can do is look away. Towards the blurred scenery of trees that funnels past surreally. Her red locks of hair whip in her face when she turns to look at him once more.

"You didn't have to get angry–" She's interrupted by a rough noise that sounds like an exasperated huff coming from him. "I could have handled the situation."

" _You think I had a choice?_ " His voice is dangerous– but it's his wild, searching eyes glaring at her that Natasha will remember for years to come. Despite tinges of rage surfacing again, the jeep slows down some and she loosens up at that.

Before Natasha stops to think that they're driving in the wrong direction of Bruce's place, he stops in what appears to be the edge of a small town.

"What're you doing?" Her eyes widen when Bruce unbuckles her seatbelt and unlocks the doors. "What is-"

"You need to leave." He nudges his head in the direction of a sign not far away. "There's the bus stop- take you wherever you wanna go."

His apathetic attempts at departing from her bring a sting of hurt. She feels like a burden, and she _hates_ that. But most importantly, she feels like a child all over again. And that feeling doesn't hold the same connotations for her as it does for others.

Perhaps she's tired, or the Hulk's careless displays of emotion inspire her– But Natasha grabs Bruce by the collar and tugs him as much as she can when he's still buckled in to get his attention.

"I don't think you understand. Those men weren't poachers- they were assassins and scientists who have the entire Russian government on their side." Her eyes frantically move about his face to see any semblance of understanding wash over his features. When his face remains in a hard line, she decides to put it in simpler terms:

"If you send me away, I will be dead by morning." Natasha lets go of him and blankly looks out at the swarm of people in the town up ahead. "I need you." It's not sentimental, but the words carry weight. 

 

 

"Did you come to me banking on the hope that the Hulk would protect you if someone tried to attack?" He's past the point of calling him 'the Other Guy' because the truth is hard to come by in its purest form and Bruce values the simplicity of truth above all.

"I came here to ensure my safety." Natasha answers in shades of gray, but he doesn't blame her surprisingly. When Bruce finds her, she's perched in a tree as if waiting for a flood to pass. He's still on edge and he realizes the spy is exceptionally better at lying when her life depends on it.

They both sink back into the leather seats cooled by the night air and watch as the last bus hisses to a stop before disappearing into another portion of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but I didn't know where I was going with it for a while. But there will be more to come!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Natasha return home and experiment on ways to help him regain control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sexual content- not horrendously vulgar or explicit, but I should still warn you
> 
> I also noticed quite a few typos in the last chapter so sorry about any of those!

Bruce slams the car door and trudges up the creaky, wooden stairs leading to his front door with Natasha cautiously following behind. He clutches to the remains of his clothes that hang off his body as he opens the door with unnerving despondency. The kitchen chair whines when he collapses in it before burying his face in his hand. Bruce's free hand that lays in his lap proceeds to clench and unclench in a shaky rhythm. Natasha picks up on it and reaches out for the hand to stop him. The contact sets him off and Bruce jerkily yanks his hand away, possessing that same wild look in his eyes.

"What's going on, Bruce?" Natasha's collected voice simultaneously calms and angers him. With his eyes closed, he only feels her warm hands on both his rugged cheeks. He squeezes his eyes tightly and lets out a shaky breath before opening them to find Natasha inches away from his face. She's crowded herself into his personal space so he is forced to confront the matter. 

 

"Nothing feels real right now." Bruce whispers almost to himself, as if he didn't regard Natasha as actually being there. But then her hands which were inching towards comforting leave his face as she moves towards the fridge. The distant echo of her feet against the floor filters through his ears as he watches her return with something.

"Open your hands." Natasha orders and Bruce has no reason or energy to argue with her. He watches the slippery ice cube drop from her hand into his and he tightens up in a compulsive reaction. It doesn't register that he is being led away towards his bedroom until Natasha prompts him to lay down. His hands continue to idly fiddle with the cube which numbs him in an awakening manner. Natasha crawls in beside him and for a long moment all he feels is her breath rustling the fine hairs on his chest as she lays her head on it. The palm of her hand brushes against his bare chest, rubs against the pulse point of his neck, strokes his chin riddled with stubble before finally, her fingertips barely graze his lips and he feels compelled to kiss them. He feels compelled to react to her touch, and with his surroundings.

"The ice cube melted." Bruce murmurs softly, mourning the contrasting sensations of numbing cold and subtle warmth. "It helped– y-you helped me." He blinked up at Natasha who hovered over him with a blank expression on her face.

"Does this always happen afterwards?" She asks quietly, her body trembling when Bruce's fingers still freezing from holding the ice cube glide against her bare skin where her shirt rode up some. He blinks seventeen times before answering her.

"Yes." He responds, but his face scrunches up when he realizes that isn't completely true. "In varying degrees, depending on my level of control." Natasha sighs before lolling her head back onto his chest, feeling it rise and fall with each slow breath. "Many people wonder how I grapple with control during the transformation, but it's always afterwards– coming back down that is the hardest." His hand moves underneath her shirt and he lets out a soft, relieved sigh to feel her skin there so warm it was almost feverish.

"Does this help you?" Natasha asks, her voice low and reverberating in his ear as his hand traces the curve of her spine with clinical precision. He swallows hard and nods quickly in response. Her lips sear his skin as he presses them against his pulse point. When her soft tongue sweeps up his neck and she breathes against the skin, it erupts into tingling goosebumps. He usually took a cold shower when he lost touch with himself; what Natasha was doing to him was unexpected and Bruce didn't know how to react, even as his body did so without thinking. He feels his control slipping again as his body continues to react on its own to Natasha's ministrations.

" _No_." He screams it in his head five times before realizing he only thought it and hadn't actually moved his mouth.

"What is it?" Natasha pulls away and Bruce releases a groan of relief and frustration.

"I-I just feel an-anxious." He stammers out, his eyes widening and gluing onto her.

"I thought you said what I was doing was helpin-"

"It is." He corrects her quickly before releasing another shaky breath. "But I need to act, not be acted upon." Her facial expression is soft, but hard to read and he's worried he's scared her away as he cups her cheek. "You understand?" It's a weak smile he gives, but it's all he can muster considering his heart is fluttering and his inside quake.

Natasha pulls her hand away from where it rested on his shoulder and Bruce thinks he's lost his chance until he sees her roll onto her back and sprawl her arms by her head. "I can take a hint." She smirks at him and allows him to act instead of being acted upon.

Bruce always looked at Natasha's lips, even in conversation. When they first met, it was one of the first things he noticed, along with how they moved in a particular way so no one could read them. Even now when she spoke they moved calculatingly. Control. He needed her to trust him for some reason at that moment, needed to know she wanted this as laid herself out underneath him. He realizes he hasn't moved yet and Natasha bucks her hips against his to get his attention.

He focuses on the tremors that cause her full lips to quirk before capturing them. He groans and breathes deeply through his nose before deepening the kiss. Hands grow anxious as they clench the bedsheets so he moves them to bury into her thick locks of hair. Their lips make soft smacking sounds as they move evenly together. Natasha pulls away panting and breathes shallowly into Bruce's mouth before kissing him once more, this time parting her lips open so he can slip his tongue inside. He groans at the sensation of her slender fingers tugging at his coarse hair till his scalp tingles in contrast to the softness of her tongue brushing against his own. He grows adventurous and allows himself to bite her plump bottom lip before pulling away once more.

Natasha whines softly from the loss of contact before she realizes Bruce is merely sitting up so he remove her shirt with hands that brush against her sides in a ticklish manner. But he freezes at the sight and begins to shake his head vigorously.

"Bruce?" He doesn't even realize she's sitting up, face hairs away from him until he opens his eyes. She realizes it's time for her to intervene and carefully reaches for Bruce's hands and places them on her body. She guides them up to her breasts and he bites down on his lip when the calloused pads of his thumbs brush against her pert nipples.

"You're doing so well." Natasha breathes out and soon enough Bruce is kissing her again, but this time with more confidence in his actions. The taste of her mingles on his lips and for once he allows himself to be driven mad. She whimpers against Bruce's lips when his hands begin to knead her breasts. She's patient and not one to beg, but all this touching and teasing has gotten to Natasha so she takes his hands and guides them between her thighs.

"Oh God." Bruce groans against her mouth and rests his forehead against hers at the feel her slick warmth at his fingertips. Natasha slips her pants and underwear off before bringing his hand once more to her. When she gives him a nod of encouragement and small smile so sweet and dare he say innocent that he had to kiss it, Bruce presses a finger past her slick folds and breaches her. Natasha rests back on her elbows and throws her head back when Bruce finds her clit and circles around it before rubbing in earnest. Her breath catches in her throat at the look of concentration Bruce has when he pumps a second finger into her, stretching her open, and continues to send waves of pleasure and pressure throughout her body. Her hips buck up to bring his fingers deeper inside her and she cries when they brush against her center. He's methodical in his movements as he is about everything but he's groaning at the feel of Natasha's walls clenching around his fingers and she knows he's in control, but not at all.

" _Bruce, I_ -" Before she can finish the sentence, he pulls away and she feels all the built up pressure dissipate, left only with an empty feeling. Bruce watches Natasha's eyes widen at him and the only sound in the room is her sharp breath.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to leave you like that." He chuckles dryly to himself as he shucks his clothes off, and although she's miffed he deprived her of her orgasm, she sees he's starting to fully come to terms with being Bruce again and what she's doing is working.

He crawls back into his spot between her legs that he didn't expect to feel so soft and looks to see she is okay before nudging himself inside her. She squeezes her eyes shut and gasps at the feeling of being stretched and filled by his cock. He hisses at how tightly she encompasses him, the burning sensation making him very aware of what is going on. Bruce experimentally thrusts so his hips are flushed against hers and Natasha's taken all of him.

"Natasha." He breathes into her ear, her name strung out into multiple syllables. She keens her hips as to tell him to get moving and he takes the hint. Bruce sets up a comfortable pace, his hips snapping with each rhythmic thrust. When he feels Natasha's hand slide between them to touch herself, he shakes his head.

"No." Bruce kisses the word into her flushed skin as he replaces her hand with his own and rubs her clit in tune with his thrusts. Natasha screams in his ears and her moans and cries bring him back. The dangerously tight grip she has around his shoulders with her arms and around his waist with her legs bring him back. His name and words of encouragement that escape Natasha's lips bring him back.

When Bruce whispers for Natasha to come, she removes her head from where it's buried into his shoulder and nods so minutely he almost thinks he imagined it. Then he feels her clench around him and the tight warmth of her cunt is too much and he comes with her, spurting inside her with a rumbling groan of release.

He caught a glimpse of Natasha's unadulterated face of pleasure before he lost control. Now as Bruce pants and looks down at the redhead underneath him, he sees the glorious aftermath. Her cheeks are flushed and sweat dampens her hairline, her plump lips are parted open as she breathes shallowly. When he leans down to kiss her once more, tongue delving into the warmth of her mouth, he feels her clench around his cock still nestled inside her. Even after he pulls out, Bruce can't help but kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheeks, and jawline, and on to her neck beaded with sweat. She mewls and moans from the small attention she isn't used to at all.

"How do you feel?" She asks with a pensive look in her eyes.

"I'm better." He blurts out, shaking his head at his own awkwardness. "But I don't know how to- _how to thank you, Natasha_."

"Well, how about dinner?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Sorry once again for my sporadic updating with this story. 
> 
> I am writing Bruce and Natasha's relationship to be platonic, so this won't be a fic with a bunch of sex in it. I'm still figuring out where I am going with it, but thanks to all who stick around!

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue this- but any support/feedback would be great! Thanks to all those who took time to read this.


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